


Return Visit

by BalefireFlatlands



Series: Sold For Parts [3]
Category: Mad Max (Video Game 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2019-09-19 18:58:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17007336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BalefireFlatlands/pseuds/BalefireFlatlands
Summary: Scab is a mess all the time. Jeet and Blas finally decide to do something about it.





	Return Visit

There was a thud from the other room and then some muffled cursing followed by a few more softer thunks. Jeet groaned and stared up into the darkness at the ceiling, debating about getting up to go see what had happened. Next to him Blas was snoring away, curled around several pillows and clutching them to his chest. A yelp and some sliding noises and Jeet forced himself out of bed to go investigate the situation in the living room.

Flicking the light on he glared at the man on the floor, surrounded by pillows and couch cushions and violently thrashing around. “What the hell are you doing? It’s..” He squinted at the clock by the TV. “four in the morning.”

Scab stopped moving, panting heavily and shoving a cushion away from him. “I wanted to lay on my stomach. My back hurts.” More than hurt, was agonizing and felt like he was laying on shards of glass.

“So lay on your stomach! What’s all this for?” Thinking Scab was being dramatic he stepped over him and started tossing pillows back onto the couch.

Propping himself up on one elbow Scab snarled, “You try rolling over without using your legs.”

Jeet paused, eyes darting to Scab before going back to rearranging the couch. It was obvious that Scab couldn’t walk, but Jeet hadn’t ever considered all the other simple things he couldn’t do without the muscles in his lower half supporting him. Now that he thought about it he’d never seen him sit up without being supported by Blas, could he not do that either? He sighed, squatting next to Scab. “Can I help?”

Better to ask then just pick him up and rearrange him because he’d learned very quickly that Scab did not like that at all. At first it looked like Scab was going to refuse, to stubbornly lay on the floor for the rest of the night instead of admitting he needed help, like it was some sort of weakness. Then he grunted and grudgingly crawled closer to Jeet, wrapping his arms around his neck as he was lifted and set back on the couch. He stiffened as his back was bent, fingers digging into Jeet before he was deposited on those plush cushions. Kneeling down Jeet put his arms under him and flipped him onto his stomach, sorting his legs out until he looked comfortable. Scab nuzzled into a pillow happily, resting his head on his arms, that was a lot better.

Frowning, Jeet grabbed a blanket to spread over Scab, but set it to the side instead. He’d never really looked before, but he could actually see the injury that had paralyzed him; his lower back was deformed, oddly swollen, and Jeet set his hand on it causing Scab to flinch. It was hard to tell with all the tattoos, but the area seemed to be discolored. Jeet gently pushed a little harder, pulling back immediately when Scab yelped and cringed.

“Scab, I don’t think that’s normal.” Jeet didn’t know, but this was a major injury, shouldn’t Scab have been in the hospital for weeks? Then again, they hadn’t seemed to really be concerned about his well being, selling him for parts instead.

“So don’t fucking touch it!” Scab squirmed, but he hadn’t lashed out to attack him or defend himself. He was oddly trusting for a guy who had just been horrifically betrayed by his gang and sent off to his death.

Jeet pulled his hand back, covering Scab with the blanket. He didn’t want to fight with him right now, not this stupid early in the morning, but he had some definite thoughts about what they should do about the situation. Specifically involving dragging Scab back to the hospital he so hated. They’d see about that later though, it was going to be quite an argument to convince Scab of that and Jeet wasn’t feeling up to it.

Turning the light off he left Scab alone and went back to bed, lying there in the dark, alone with his thoughts. He was too awake now to really be tired, and as always, he had a lot on his mind. Blas squirmed next to him and Jeet went to roll over to cuddle him but then hesitated. Propping himself up like Scab, he experimentally tried to turn over without using his lower half at all. Having little success he reached up to rub his hand over his face.

Maybe Scab had a point. They needed to do something about his mobility. Well, Jeet did. After rescuing him from dying of dehydration in a box, he felt responsible for his welfare. He couldn’t dump him off at a hospital and forget about him; not now, they’d been through a lot the past week or so and he’d come to grudgingly realize that he sorta liked the bitter gangster. And Blas would have thrown a fit if Jeet had gotten rid of him like a dog they didn’t want anymore.

Jeet didn’t know what to do. His life was complicated enough with just his business and Blas, now he’d added a third party to the picture and it seemed to be spiraling out of control. It was hard to focus on only one thing when neglecting the others could send it all crashing to the ground like a house of cards.

There wasn’t any way he was getting back to sleep.

—

Scab was getting worse. He could barely prop himself up anymore and he spent most of his time with his face pushed into the couch cushion, fists balled up and clenched in the fabric; obviously in a lot of pain and trying so hard to not show it. Jeet had come home in the middle of the day to check on him, resting his hand against his back. He could feel the heat radiating off him, the swelling visible as odd distortions in his tattoos. Scab made an anguished sound at the barest touch against his skin, muffled as he shoved his face further into the pillow he was clutching.

Okay, that wasn’t good at all. Blas sat by his head, stroking his shoulder gently, “Scab, we’re gonna take you back to the hospital.” There was a snarl from somewhere in the mound of pillows. “I know you don’t wanna, but you can’t lay on the couch forever an’ hope it gets better. I’ve tried that before and it don’t work.”

Jeet carefully wedged his arms under Scab, prepared for him to thrash and try to escape as he was picked up. But instead he cried out and clutched at Jeet, wheezing agonizing gasps as sharp throbbing pain shot up his spine and across his chest.

“You can’t catch a break.” Trying to take his mind off it all as he carried Scab out to the car. “Shot five times, shipped off in a box, went through withdrawal, have to sleep on a couch and now this.” He settled him into the backseat as Blas darted back into the house to get blankets and pillows to support him, “You still kind of smell like strawberries too.”

“Least you don’t have to smell it all the time.” Scab was panting, struggling to stay on the seat, his voice raspy. “I could eat a hundred gallons of Neapolitan ice cream.”

“Once we figure out what’s wrong with you I’m sure Blas would be thrilled to buy you all the ice cream in the world.” Jeet rolled his eyes, waiting for Blas to get back. “Actually no, he’ll be thrilled to make me buy you ice cream.”

“You need to save your money for a new car.” Scab leaned his head back against the headrest, trying to concentrate on anything other than what was happening to his spine right now.

Jeet snorted, “You’re already gonna cost me a fortune in ramps and grab bars. You’ll just have to deal with the car.”

Eyes going wide, Scab turned to look at him, pain briefly forgotten, “You’re gonna do that? To your house?” Jeet made a twitchy gesture and stepped aside to let Blas climb into the backseat and start nestling blankets around Scab.

Scab went silent after that, stunned, but it didn’t last. Without much of a suspension in the little economy car the ride was rough and it wasn’t long before Scab started huffing out groans as it bounced along the highway. Then he sat silent and miserable in the waiting room of the hospital, cringing into an oversized wheelchair as Blas pushed him around. He didn’t even fight as he was wheeled away for X-rays.

Jeet had never been more worried.

Blas stroked Scab’s arm as he lay in an elevated hospital bed, having no idea how to comfort him as he twitched and whimpered. Jeet paced back and forth waiting for the doctor to return, ready to give the woman a piece of his mind for not pumping him full of painkillers to at least try and help him not be miserable.

She returned with an armful of documents, aggressively cheerful as she brushed past Jeet, “And how are we feeling hon?”

“Like shit.”

She smiled, flicking on a lightbox and sliding an X-ray into the holder. “I’m not surprised, you have a bullet fragment still in your spine. Right here. And on top of that you have several fractures that need to be pinned.”

Scab blinked at the image, having never actually seen the damage to his lower half. He could hardly see the bit of metal that was wedged in his vertebrae even when she pointed to it with the tip of a pen, but the break was obvious, his spine kinking at an unnatural angle. None of that looked good.

“Also, I ordered your medical records from the other hospital and turns out, you’re dead!” She presented the stunned gangster with a piece of paper. “You passed away at 6:24 pm on June 14th, complications due to gunshot wounds.”

Scab scoffed, “That explains why I feel fucking terrible.”

“What does that mean though?”

She shuffled the papers back together, bustling around Scab and adjusting things. “It means the hospital would be hit with a major malpractice lawsuit, if it hadn’t burned to the ground a few weeks ago.”

Jeet turned to stare at Scab, unsure what to make of that. It definitely looked like someone had been trying to cover their tracks and destroy all evidence. The doctor who had shipped Scab off was probably dead too. Someone wasn’t happy about missing that payday because the van got stolen.

“As for next steps, we need to surgically correct your spine. It’s starting to heal crooked because you weren’t properly stabilized post-injury. That’s why you don’t have full range of motion in your upper torso. We need to insert pins to give you some support and there’s a lot of physical therapy ahead to make sure you don’t start to atrophy. I can tell that you haven’t moved your legs in a long time, the muscles will start to decay if you keep that up.”

She continued for a while, detailing the procedure to Scab who was starting to look uncomfortable and then vaguely terrified. He didn’t want to have surgery, didn’t want to risk waking up in a box again. Blas sitting next to him and squeezing his hand was all that was currently keeping him grounded and not hyperventilating.

After she left to prepare things Scab squirmed around, dragging Blas closer so he could wrap an arm around him. He was very, very scared, and the tough guy image that he’d tried to project crumbled into pieces instantly as he clung to the little chemist, starting to tremble. Jeet was torn between jealousy at how they were embracing and wanting to console Scab who had gone deathly pale and looked like he might pass out.

“You’ll be alright. We’ll be right here when you wake up.” Blas was nearly laying in the bed with Scab, arms around him as he stroked his back. “I’ve been in this hospital before, you get cheesecake on Fridays.”

Scab managed a wan smile at that, leave it to Blas to know the schedule of desserts.

Jeet however, was more practical, staring at that X-ray on the wall. “You actually changed your name to Scab? That’s really your legal name?”

Silently chuckling, Scab pulled away from Blas enough to hold out his wrist with his hospital band, proudly proclaiming his name on it.

Looking at it, Jeet was less than impressed. “You’re telling me you’ve never filed taxes in your life, you don’t even have a fucking bank account yet you went through the trouble to do the paperwork to legally change your name to Scab?”

“In triplicate.”

Jeet threw up his hands in disgust, “You’re the worst.”

“Course I am. That’s why you keep me around, Boss.”

—

He’d disintegrated quickly as the surgery drew closer, turning into a trembling scared lump that didn’t want to let Blas go, holding him tightly like a security blanket. And when Blas had needed to leave to get food or use the restroom he’d turned his attentions to Jeet, trying to crawl off the bed onto his lap. Very awkwardly Jeet leaned over the bed, patting him on the shoulder.

He wasn’t any good at comforting people, or showing emotions, or even admitting he had them. When he’d found Blas hiding out in the factory he’d bought, bleeding everywhere and using a rubberband as a tourniquet and a grocery bag as a bandage, he’d been completely unprepared to make him feel better in the hospital. At first he’d almost dropped him off and let him fend for himself before a nurse assumed they were together and had ushered him into the back. Fortunately Blas had just been happy to have someone there so Jeet hadn’t had to do much. But Scab was terrified and needed reassurance that he was going to be okay, and Jeet was awful at murmuring the right things and giving out soft hugs. He tried though, making the effort to stroke Scab’s arms and tuck the blanket around him since he knew he’d be shit with words. 

It seemed to be enough, Scab was still shaking but he wasn’t making that gasping hyperventilating noise anymore. He didn’t want to do this, and if Jeet hadn’t been there he likely would have rolled off the bed to make a break for it. But he couldn’t look that pathetic in front of the boss. Him clutching at Jeet and trembling was bad enough. He was barely keeping it together, but his stubborn nature won out.

Taking a deep breath Scab nodded miserably when the nurse came in to ask if he was ready, looking back at Blas and Jeet as if he might never see them again. And in his mind he wasn’t going to. This was it. Everything was all over.

—

Jeet paced the halls while Blas sat in the hard plastic chair outside of Scab’s room. Waiting. He’d only known Scab for about a month, and more than half of that time had been in hospitals or making sure he wasn’t dying; he barely knew him at all save for little bits of a joking personality that peeked out every now and then. But for some reason Jeet was worried about him, an odd aching in his chest that he’d only felt once before when Blas had passed out at work. Fear gripping him that he was going to die, he didn’t think he could cope with losing either of them.

But why did he even care about Scab? By all accounts he should have wanted to abandon him, make him someone else’s problem. Especially since Blas seemed to like the gangster far more than he did Jeet, went out of his way to make sure the guy was happy and comfortable, spent hours laying against him and just talking. He never did that with Jeet. Of course, Jeet didn’t let him. Always in motion, always thinking several steps ahead to keep his very illegal business from being found, keep himself and his workers from being arrested, he told himself he didn’t have time for frivolous luxuries like spending an hour cuddling someone while watching TV. Blas’ priorities were just different than his.

He plopped down into a chair next to Blas, the sickly chemist immediately latching onto his arm. "He’s gonna be okay right?“

Jeet rubbed his temples, for once letting Blas cuddle up on him in public. "Yeah, he’ll be fine.”

There was a pause where Blas started to say something and then cut himself off. Finally, “What are you gonna do with him?”

“Hmm?”

“I mean… you’re gonna let him stay at our house right?”

“Our house?” Since when had it become their house and not just Jeet’s? Sure Blas lived there but … Alright yeah, their house. “He can stay for now. What else am I gonna do with him?”

“I dunno, you don’t seem to like him much.”

“I’m not gonna dump him on the side of the road because I don’t like him.” Jeet frowned, wondering what exactly it was Blas thought he would do with Scab. “I don’t like that he’s eating up all my resources and time. Your time too. And at this rate they’re gonna name the hospital after him. We’ve been here twice in two weeks.”

“You could hang out with us on the couch and then we’d all be spending time together.”

“Blas that’s not…” Jeet sighed, “Yeah. Okay. If you’re going to share those blankets with me.”

“Always.”

—

Scab blinked blearily, woozy and uncoordinated, he could hear people talking but couldn’t make out the words. There were lights and things moving, but he had no idea where he was or what was happening. Had they not put him in the box yet? Had he already been shipped off and this time the tranquilizers had lasted the whole trip?

He weakly swatted at whatever was next to him, missing completely and nearly hitting himself in the face instead. Half-snarling he tried again, mumbling, “Kill all of ya, I’ll .. I’ll .. when I get ahold of you…”

“Well that certainly sounds like him.”

Pausing Scab tried to turn towards the familiar voice but was pushed down.

“Now stop wriggling, hon. You’ve been under for a while, lay back and relax, it’s gonna take a while. Your boyfriends are right here to see you.” There was some angry sputtering but the female voice continued, “Go ahead and talk to him dearie, he’s coming around.”

“Hey Scab. It’s Blas.” Warm fingers found Scab’s and squeezed his hand. “You’re all out of surgery. I brought you a blanket and a hoodie, but you can’t wear it til they take the IV out. Jeet’s right here too.”

Scab squinted at Blas, only able to make out a brownish blob. His arms and head felt heavy and he was freezing. “’m still in the hospital?”

“Yeah, you gotta stay for a while and heal up. But look what I got you!” Blas pulled his hand back so he could hold up a fuzzy blanket, black with a pattern of cutesy skulls and crossbones. He draped it over Scab and started tucking him in.

Staring at it as if he’d never seen a blanket before in his life, Scab turned to look over at Jeet who was grumbling something under his breath and glaring at the doctor.

“You guys are still here?” Scab sounded very confused, he hadn’t expected either of them to be there. Kindness was so unknown to him that he didn’t know how to react to it.

“We’re not gonna let you wake up alone.” Jeet stood next to the bed, resting his hand on Scab’s shoulder while continuing his narrow-eyed stare down with the doctor. They were gonna have words later about that boyfriends comment, but for now Scab was the priority. He seemed to have honestly thought that Jeet was going to abandon him, which hurt something deep in Jeet’s chest.

“I left to buy you some stuff but I’m back now.” Blas slid his hand back into Scab’s, smiling at him and squeezing his fingers.

The doctor leaned over Scab, checking all his vitals and then patting him on the arm. “I’ll leave you boys alone, keep him awake and alert and I’ll be back in a while to check on him.”

Blas pulled a chair next to the bed so he could sit next to Scab with his upper half leaned on the bed. “Feeling any better?”

Rubbing his eyes Scab blinked again, “I dunno. Feel all blurry.”

“Waking up from surgery is no fun, and it’s always really cold.” He adjusted the blankets around Scab, wanting to crawl in the bed and warm him up but resisting.

“Stupid hospitals.” He shivered and tried to drag Blas closer to him.

“You better get used to it. They said you have to stay for at least five days.” Jeet stroked Scab’s shoulder absently. “And then you’ll have to come back for physical therapy. Lots more rides in your favorite car. You’re gonna cost me a bundle in gas.”

Scab groaned, but he managed a smile, reaching up to hold onto Jeet’s arm. “You’re the best, Boss.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

—

Scab let out a sound of surprise as he was picked up abruptly, woken from a pleasant dream about a certain one-armed chemist and finding himself instead in Jeet’s arms.

“Wh–?” He flailed, disoriented and a bit drowsy.

“Time to go home.” Jeet shifted his grip on Scab as Blas pushed a wheelchair into the room. “And they’re probably charging you for this room by the hour.”

Scab wrapped his arms around Jeet as he was gently lowered into the chair, “Where’d you find a chair here that doesn’t look like it’s been run over by a car?”

All the other horrible wheelchairs he’d been using at the hospital were about 20 years old and mangled somehow. Most were too heavy for Blas to push one handed, frustrating both of them. This one was slim, black and chrome with white rubber wheels and shiny spokes. He ran his hands over the armrests, settling comfortably against the backrest.

Blas tucked the blanket over Scab’s legs, adjusting his feet so they sat properly on the silver footrests. “Jeet bought it for you, but I picked it out. Thought you’d want one black and leather to match your jacket. And the white wheels kinda look like those tires on the old cars you like.”

“Whitewalls.” The correction was automatic but he was staring at Jeet, who was pointedly not looking at him, gathering up all his paperwork and personal items. “This looks expensive.”

Jeet snorted, “Very.” In the past few weeks he’d spent more on Scab than he had on him and Blas in the past year. Frugal as he was, he could afford it, he just didn’t want to spend any money he didn’t have to.

“But it’s light! I can push it.” For emphasis he wheeled Scab around in a circle, happy that he could help do something.

Scab was still staring at Jeet strangely, not understanding that man at all. He’d gone out of his way to help the gangster multiple times, spent a small fortune on him, and basically let him move in with him. And Scab just didn’t understand why. He also didn’t know how he was ever going to repay him for his kindness, or if he even could.

Oblivious as always Blas cheerfully wheeled him down the hallway, Scab looking down at the wheels and adjusting himself to get comfortable. “Does this thing counterbalance? Can I pop wheelies in it?”

“Scab.” Jeet’s voice was harsh, annoyance radiating through that single syllable.

“What? I gotta learn some tricks.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose Jeet just sighed, “We’re not even out of the hospital yet Scab. I don’t want to be back here every week.”

Twisting around to look back at Blas he tried to see the back of the chair, “Is there a bar back there for you to stand on? Wait, push me over there by that little slope, I wanna test out this handbrake thing.”

Jeet rubbed his temples, sighing heavily as they approached the car, “I’ll go check you into the Emergency Room now. Save some paperwork later.”

Scab grinned and shot an arm out to drag Jeet into a hug against the side of the chair, “I’ll be good Boss. I’m ready for all that Neapolitan ice cream now.”

Jeet smiled softly, returning the hug despite the people in the parking lot staring at them, “No running over peoples feet at the ice cream parlor?”

“No promises.”


End file.
